Cardiff University's Solus in all its metallic gloom is hosting the hotly anticipated Joy Formidable, and the conclusion to their recent tour. Before this, however, Northern Ireland's So I Watch You From Afar bring their Battles-meets-Pelican instrumental metal. Wading through the fretboard noodling makes the noise worth the wait.

The Joy Formidable. Photo: Stereoboard

Next door, Man Without Country bang their synth barrage through a fog of dry ice before the main event of Joy Formidable. Ritzy, Rhydian and Matt are flanked by a nautical scene including a lighthouse and a huge gong. This scribe would like to thank Ritzy and co for shredding what was left of my hearing. They are very loud, confident and sounding like a spiral staircase falling down an escalator; soaring through austere and bombastic renditions of Whirring and Abacus - stunning songs form a stunning début album.

Winding from the uni and into Cardiff, the usual inhabitants of venues occupied by Sŵn find drunken salvation in the fun pubs of Greyfriars Road. Over at Womanby Street, the epicentre of Sŵn, it is brimming. Fresh and familiar faces alike mingle, and mainly queue. And the queues are it seems a necessary evil of success. I'm sure The Victorian English Gentlemens Club are great. The drums and shrieks can be heard from the pavement outside.

The same goes for Gallops. Word, literally, on the street is they smashed it. Resigned to mammoth queues, we slither towards any venue that isn't 10-deep at the bar and look forward to Saturday and Wales' premier surf rock purveyors Y Niwl.

The Dick Dale-influenced quartet kick things off on Saturday afternoon in Cardiff Arts Institute to a mixture of hungover types and a surprising number of actual children. From our point of view the mixture of strategic lager and amazingly authentic surf jangle is just the tonic. Then it's off to Buffalo Bar for Wrexham's Mowbird. The dark red hue and bunting in Buffalo is a giddy contrast to the autumn sun, and behind the bunting, Mowbird riffle through their wondrously shambolic Sebadoh-esque sleepy-eyed surf rock (yes, again). Great thing about the three boys and lady of Mowbird is they are never the same twice, and do check out their Bandcamp pages. This reviewer is a bit in love.

Anyway day turns to night, Sŵn hits its stride. Y Niwl play (yes, again) through a power cut in Dempseys, The Fall do their thing in the Great Hall at Cardiff University and Esben And The Witch affirm in Buffalo Bar that they are indeed ones to watch. Over in Chapter Arts Centre, meanwhile, The Roseville Band and Christopher Rees bring dexterous acousticness to Canton before it's back to the post-Soviet bread queues and, in lieu of seeing any music, we are now part of a crowd watching a barefoot lady smashing a stiletto heel through a Ford Ka windscreen. Nice.

Right Hand Left Hand. Photo: Pollywaffle

Sŵn Sunday. As usual the whole weekend is a blur. Obviously, a sensible above-board blur. Right Hand Left Hand bring their Trans Am-laden hooks and bombast to Dempseys, ably followed by Kutosis and the grown up rock of Tiger Please.

A few streets away in O'Neill's, Truckers Of Husk offer their neo-prog, followed by the ever-popular Sweet Baboo. Upstairs at 10 Feet Tall we find Mackem folk type James McKay with a great voice and a ballsy set that belies his skinny bookish frame. Humble and eloquent (a 20-something singing about how Thatcher screwed over the North East is usually a recipe for a train wreck) his reversioning of a rap about the London riots is spellbinding.

Back upstairs in Dempseys an undoubted highlight is Saturday's Kids. It is as if we are transported back to Washington, DC, mid-1988. The collage of Sonic Youth and Fugazi is far from aping the past. It's cocksure and absolutely brilliant. Go see them supporting the ever-excellent Future Of The Left. A quick legger to Undertone sees the denim demons Strange News From Another Star, recently returned from touring the Ukraine, rip through their Hot Snakes embossed set.

Witches Drum. Photo: Simon Boughton

Raging against the dying of the light. Terrified of Monday morning, The Witches Drum end things off in Dempseys. The frontman resplendent in green face paint and marigolds, like Alice Cooper as a 70s, Saturday afternoon wrestler. It makes no sense. It's the perfect end and all we are left with is the tinnitus, tiredness and sadness that one will have to wait another year for Sŵn to once again fight the good fight.

Anyway, It's Thursday. It's crisp and lovely and autumnal, and honestly, apart from Dempseys pub full of Celtic fans, there is a palpable energy and anticipation ahead of a weekend featuring The Joy Formidable, The Fall, Victorian English Gentlemens Club, Y Niwl and many, many more.

Triggering such enthusiasm for artists spanning a multitude of genres is a victory. For example; seeing arch Caledonian miserablist Aidan Moffat croon his nocturnal laments to a packed, Ten Foot Tall is a hen's teeth moment. There's barely breathing room. A legend sure, but this kind of audience would befit someone of Charlotte Church's calibre.

Which is funny, because the angelic voiced Woodbine enthusiast is fronting a band in Clwb Ifor Bach, supporting French whimsy poppers Herman Düne. The venue is rammed as an earnest mixture of T'Pau and er, The Cocteau Twins makes its way through the ether.

Banded Puma at Clwb Ifor Bach, Cardiff (Photo: Tom Ashmore)

Sadly and sans face furniture, this reviewer was oblivious to the fact the silver-sequined-clad superstar was crooning away, fronting Banded Puma (a one-off band name, apparently; 'made up band' being an anagram, as you'll have seen immediately) until it was pointed out afterwards. So, a lukewarm glance and slink off to the bar was an entirely objective move.

Herman Düne (Photo: Tom Ashmore)

Anyway. The crowd thins then swells for the evergreen Herman Düne and their beardy folk. It's sweet and always has a welcome home in the Welsh capital. Then it's off to Undertone for the bracing, snotty punk of The Cut Ups and Red City Radio and more refreshments. Fixers smash it to a packed upstairs in Dempseys and time and space begins to blur into a mix of smiles and premium lager.

OK, it's a snapshot and the few hours on a Thursday are not enough. Wonderfully there's a genuine sense of discovery with the countless bands on display. There's even club nights under the Sŵn banner for the night owl taking in usual stag and hen do crucibles like Glam and Tiger Tiger. Clichés aside, if you can't find something to tick your musical boxes at Swn you are a rare breed indeed. Get down to Cardiff and get in a queue.

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